


what did you wish for what did you fear

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alisha - Freeform, Awkward First Times, Christmas, Comfort, Coping, Coulson cooking, Cunnilingus, Daisy's childhood, F/M, Food, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Healing, Healing Sex, Honesty, Humor, Inhumans (Marvel), Joey Gutierrez - Freeform, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Loneliness, Loss, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Sex Positions, St. Agnes, Supportive Relationships, Yo-Yo Rodriguez - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5299919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired in part by Christmas fluff requests, and also the Sneak Peek for 3x09.  Title from Aimee Mann's "Christmastime" (one of my favorite Christmas songs).</p>
            </blockquote>





	what did you wish for what did you fear

Daisy has been keeping to herself a lot lately, it seems.

The team, at least, her team, doesn’t get outside much, unless they want to risk capture and stasis.

And maybe offered a job by the government if they’re useful enough.

When they do go out, they stay quiet, stay dark.  Highest priority if they want to do the important work set out before them.

He’d like to think after everything that has happened in the past month that Daisy fully trusts the part of him that wants to keep people safe.

Inhumans and humans alike.

Even if they both went about the same goal at different angles.

He hangs up the secure line in his office, having made another attempt to reach her, and sits for a moment in silence.

It feels empty here without her presence. 

Even in the dark, even when they didn’t see each other completely, they were still on the same page.

Unfortunately, the last several times he’s tried to reach their underground base, the Cocoon, Agent Johnson hasn’t been available to speak to him.

Joey even slipped at one point and said he didn’t know where she was.

He didn’t press.  After all, no need to make Joey feel caught in the middle of two leaders.

Daisy is the boss there, not him.

That was the arrangement after everything with the ATCU, HYDRA and rogue Inhumans went down.

She’s more than earned that latitude. 

Giving everything, like she always has, never asking much for herself, but instead for others.

Their conversation about her childhood, how that impacts the way you see the world, it stuck with him.

It lodged itself in him, if he’s going to be honest with himself. 

How she turned out the way she did is a miracle.  One that he’s seen lived out with his own two eyes.

It’s not hard to understand why he misses that miracle in his life every day. That reminder.

Somehow, he’s still a man that believes in miracles. Even in the face of the impossible.

Not just a cog in a wheel, but that fate can be directed.  It can be shaken and moved.

They _can_ change the tide.

 

###

 

“She’s not going to like that,” Mack says, shaking his head.

“It’s not like I’m tracking her,” Coulson replies, brushing off the accusation. “It’s Christmas, and I want to give her a gift.”

Mack gives him a sigh, looking down at the package in his hands.  With the neat, bright bow.

Coulson doesn’t really give gifts, so, he understands the suspicion, but Mack’s kind of been on the inside while all of this has gone down.

Between the two of them and feeling pulled in both directions.

He owes Mack more than this, he thinks.

They’re in the garage and Coulson’s there to take out Lola and not be noticed. 

Mack is working on a bike, and he knows it’s meant for Joey to use in the field.

They’re on a skeleton crew because of the holidays, and few people are left now.

Mack has noticed.  Like he always does.

It’s one of the things he’s realized about Mack. 

It’s not sneaky at all, but Mack’s always around and while in the background he pays attention.

Mack makes connections between things that he might not see, for getting too wrapped up in his own agenda.

Forest for the trees.

They’re a lot alike in that regard.  It was why SHIELD had recruited him once upon a time.

“Just going to drop it off at the Cocoon, then?”

“That was the plan.”

His face tells him he doesn’t believe that at all.

“In person?”

“She’s not the easiest person to track down at the moment,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hip.

“Do you think there might be a reason for that?”

“Certainly,” Coulson answers, shrugging his shoulders, like that’s a real answer.

Mack wipes his hands off with the rag from his back pocket, like he’s holding back something.

“Sure you’re not after that reason?”

“I just want to do something for her, for a change.”

That seems to satisfy him.

 

###

 

Daisy is not at the Cocoon, of course.

And that’s when he realizes the nice story he’s been telling himself on the ride over isn’t exactly true.

He doesn’t want to know _the reason_.

It’s not even about giving her the gift.

What he wants is to see _her_ , and tell her _his_ reason.

It’s Christmas. She’s not alone.

He doesn’t want her to see the world through that lens, while saving it, fighting for it.

Not that he’s good at expressing these kinds of things.

Giving her the platform to do more good didn’t erase what she’s always carried with her.

Finding her parents didn’t wrap it up in a neat bow.  It made her question things all over again.

“Agent Rodriguez,” he says, walking into their coms room, nodding his head.

He doesn’t make personal appearances here that often, so people eyeball him a bit.

These people can’t go anywhere for the holidays, unlike the Playground crew.

“Daisy’s not here,” she replies, and he glances towards Joey and sees him stare down at the panel in front of him, because it seems people know this is a thing?

“Ella vuelve pronto?” he asks.

She grins at him. “Not bad. Quedarse callado.”

“You’ve got me,” he says, smirking when the translation doesn’t pop into his head.

Her eyes land on the gift in his hands.

“She left about twenty minutes ago,” Joey says, turning back to him. “You could probably catch up with her.”

“Highway?” he asks.  C’mon, throw him a crumb, Joey.

“By train,” Joey says.

Rodriguez looks away like she’s not going to be a part of this, but still willing to listen.

“I’ll leave this here,” he says hurriedly, putting the present down on the table at the center of the room.

“We’ll make sure she gets it,” Joey calls after him.

“Something like that,” he says, turning back for a moment over his shoulder.

“Hey, do you guys have any plans for Christmas?”

 

###

 

He's following after her now, breaking some kind of rule, he knows.

But she wouldn't leave her team alone on the holiday if it wasn't something personal.

And important.

The train ride to New York is a clue, and he doesn't know a lot about her past, but he's hoping he knows enough.

He takes the train to 34th, Hell's Kitchen, and walks down the snow-swept sidewalk.

Heading towards St. Agnes.

Maybe he's wrong, but there's this feeling in him again, that he hasn't felt since...

He stops.

This is intruding. It's not meant for him.

He's doing it. Again.

This city felt familiar to him once. But the Chitauri Invasion changed all of that.

It changed everything.

The things he wants to say, the speech he rehearsed over and over in his head on the long ride to this place.

It doesn’t belong here, he thinks, his breath hovering in front of him in the evening air.

He feels like a ghost.

Shoves his hands into his coat pockets, he turns around moving in towards the cold winter breeze, heading back towards the station.

“Coulson.”

He looks up, and sees her staring back at him.

She has an amused expression on her face, but he’s not sure how to read that, exactly.

“A mutual acquaintance,” she says, answering his question, taking a few steps forward.

He’s not sure if it’s Mack, or Joey, or Rodriguez, even, but he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hesitating too long.

Daisy nods, and walks towards him, then slides her hand through the crook in his arm, turning him with her back towards their destination.

“Don’t be.”

They walk in silence for a long while, and he can’t shake this feeling of being embarrassed, being exposed, and she’s not saying anything.

“My old neighborhood,” she starts, looking everywhere but at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve walked it.”

He swallows and a part of him wants her to tell him how awful he is for needing to know, for tracking her down because he only wants to know more.

Instead of letting her have this thing for herself.

“There’s a list, every year, that St. Agnes publishes.,” she goes on. “What all of the kids in the orphanage want for Christmas.”

Full disclosure, and his heart is sinking and racing, as they take careful steps along the sidewalk.

“I’ve been coming back for the last several weeks and picking a kid off the list and then giving them what they want.”

“Did someone ever do that for you?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“No,” she says.

And of course it all clicks, it all makes sense now.  But knowing doesn’t change any of his reasons for wondering.

“I wanted to know,” he tells her. “I should’ve asked.”

“You didn’t,” she says, stopping on the sidewalk, twisting his arm with hers off of the pathway.

She’s looking up at him, and this is what he came here for.

“Yes,” he answers. “I buried…a lot of things.”

“Did you?” she replies, as though she doesn’t believe it at all.

These connections between them. Just as much about him as they are about her.

“Are you okay with me unburying mine?” she continues.

He's not so sure now. The way they've been entangled has only hurt her.  Been used like a weapon.

“Are you afraid of your past, Phil?”

Wait. This was supposed to be about her, not about him.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to go back?” she asks, looking down the sidewalk to the way they came.

He stares back at it for a moment, sniffs against the chill.

“No.”

“Why not?” she replies, looking up at him, like she’s just as curious as he is.

“You're here.”

 

###

 

They sit next to each other on the train. 

The familiar pull is there.

It never left him, really.  He just started ignoring it because he thought it was necessary.

His hand reaches for hers, closes over her fingerless gloves.

It’s not a real hand, and they’re not exactly real people on the train right now.

And still, this is real.

She leans her head against his shoulder, and turns it into his coat, and the tears come back.

The image of her leaving the package for the little girl on the quiet steps of St. Agnes.  Having to hide her generosity, not even being able to have that small piece of joy.

Then her nervousness as he walked up beside her, and pressed the doorbell, putting an arm around her when she seemed like she might bolt.

“It’s okay,” he said, turning to her, her face staring up at him with something unreadable in it.

He’d seen her afraid before, this was different, but maybe a bit like that.

The light comes on above them, and as they hear the door unlatch, he feels Daisy’s hand grasp his suddenly.

He holds on and bends down to scoop up the package in his other hand.

An elderly woman opens the door quietly and peeks out at them, a simple cross around her neck.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” he answers. “Sorry, it’s late.”

He gives her a charming smile and she relaxes a little.

“She wanted to bring this for one of the little girls on your list.”

“Oh?” the woman says, taking the package from him.  “Which one?”

“Marissa,” she says, staring over at the woman, like she’s trying to remember something.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” the woman says, peering at her in the cold. “What’s your name?”

“Daisy,” she says, nods and puts her hand against his side, like she’s using him as an anchor.

“Daisy. What a lovely name.  Spring in wintertime.  I’ll let her know it’s from Daisy.”

He thanks her again and the door shuts.  The light goes off.

And then she’s in his arms, and he tells her she can’t cry like this in the cold or the tears will freeze on her face.

She laughs at him, and lets him dot them away with the end of her scarf.

“I left something for you back home,” he says, looking down at their hands as the train rattles on through the tunnel.

“More secrets?” she asks, teasing in her voice.

“The nice kind.”

“Mmm,” she hums.

 

###

 

She tugs open the ribbon and then lifts the lid to the box.

Looks down inside of it.

Then pulls out the neatly folded papers.

Her face lights up as she opens them. “These are-“

“My mom’s recipes,” he begins.  “All the things I remember, I guess.  I wanted you to have it.”

They’re all written by hand and she looks at them in turn for a long time before folding them up and putting them away.

“Thanks,” she says, closing the lid and placing the box on the other side of her on the couch.

“I thought we could put them to good use tomorrow,” he says, looking at the LED screen of the roaring fireplace on the wall across from them.

“Since your people can’t leave, and, I’d like to make myself useful.”

“What about the Playground?” she asks.

“It’s empty.  Except for Mack, but he’ll be coming here anyway to drop off Joey’s bike.”

“Joey is going to freak,” she says, with a big grin, and yawns.

“I think that’s what Mack’s hoping for,” he says, giving her a little smile.

“Daisy, I could’ve done things differently,” he starts, running his fingers over the fabric of the couch.

“We both could have.”

“I should’ve given you more.”

“Of what, Phil?” she asks, shrugging.

“What you needed. I tried, at times. I never wanted to get in your way.”

“I see.”

She has her hands drawn back onto her lap.

“None of my excuses matter,” he says with a shake of his head. “What I’m trying to ask is, what do you want?”

“I kind of think this is it, right?” she answers, with a shrug. “My team’s on a Federal watch list, Inhumans are being registered and put in stasis, and I’ve got this nice, cozy base with a fake roaring fire.”

“Yeah, I think we’re past this?” he asks, ignoring her attempt at deflection.

“I like it when you open up to me,” she says, closes her eyes. She bites on her lower lip, thinking it over. “I like that you came after me.  I like it when you hold my hand.”

She opens her eyes and there’s the sadness that was there earlier again.

“I liked the way you used to say my name. I liked it too much.”

She nods at him, like she’s embarrassed. Her eyes big, and trying to hold everything in.

“Finding out about my past, it was supposed to change everything, right?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sliding closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“Why does it still feel empty?” she asks, resting her hand against his chest.

They watch the fake fire dance along the wall.

 

###

 

“You better find a tamale recipe,” she says, as they walk down the hall of the sleeping quarters. “Or you’ll never hear the end of it from Yo-Yo.”

“Rodriguez?” he huffs as he swipes his lanyard at the door. “She already tested my Spanish. I failed. And…do we even have stuff to make tamales?”

“She’s been talking about it for weeks,” she says, handing over the standard-issue sweats for him to sleep in. “Tradición.”

“Setting me up for failure here,” he warns, smirking at her, leaning back against the jamb so it won’t slide closed again.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to pull through.  You always do,” she says, looking up at him affectionately.

They’re still here.  Still standing, and so close, but not quite.

“ _Skye_ ,” he says, just when she turns to leave.

He watches her take a breath, and turn back around to him.

“Mmm hmm?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

She tilts her head at him, and crosses her arms for a moment. “As in, generally, or-“

Her finger gestures towards his room.

“Both?” he answers a little sheepishly.

He watches her eyebrows raise for a moment as she thinks it over.

Not exactly an answer.

She blinks at him, then passes inside, glancing over her shoulder as he checks back down the empty corridor, and comes in as the door shuts after.

He puts down his sweats on the table in the guest suite and then looks over the room, down at the not-very-large bed.

“So,” she says, watching him. “How is this supposed to go?”

“Not sure,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “Is this too awkward?”

“We’ve spent so much time trying to not get in each other’s way, it was probably bound to be?”

“I kind of always thought if it ever happened,” he says, going to the bathroom and opening the drawers. “It would be kind of sudden?”

She listens to the way the bathroom makes his voice sound hollow, and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“You’ve thought about this before?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding normal now inside the room. “Haven’t you?”

“I might’ve thought about it a few times,” she admits.

“Where?” he asks, with a smirk on his face.

“You first,” she says, scooting over to make room for him.

“On my desk, obviously,” he says, amused at her expression.

“You’d never do it on your desk, Coulson,” she says, laughing at him.

“That’s probably why I imagined it there,” he admits, staring down at his shoes.

“So, all those times we were alone in your office?” she says, biting on her lower lip.

“Not all,” he scoffs. “You?”

“Once, in the backseat of the SUV, when we were on the Bus.”

“That wasn’t my most professional moment,” he says. “I wasn’t even _cool_.”

“Which is why it intrigued me.  Why _you_ did.”

The idea that she likes him being unprofessional lets him start to string together quite a few things over the past few years.

“What are you thinking about?” she says, bumping her knee against his.

“Not wasting any more time.”

 

###

 

He knows this isn’t going to fix anything.

But at least it feels like some kind of answer.

Having his fingers inside of her and discovering how wet she was even though they’d only kissed turned the awkward teasing into frantic undressing.

All of that halting when she sees his scar and lets him put her fingers on it, drawing along the ridges, asking if it still hurt.

An answer.

He doesn’t feel broken when he’s with her, and he can’t find the words right now, but he’s going to kiss her all over until she understands.

Her body vibrates beneath him with laughter, and it’s been so long since he’s heard that quality in her voice.

Drawing his mouth over the curve of her hip, her voice goes deeper, groaning, as her fingers move gently over his scalp.

He wants to give her this so badly, watch her take pleasure out of him adoring her.

His tongue slides over her clit in a long, slow stroke and her hips buck underneath him, already sensitive and on edge.

Pushing her down again, one hand low on her belly, hers twist into the pillow under her head, as a slow heat builds in him.

He sits up and pulls her towards him, waiting for her to kiss him, deepening it once he realizes she doesn’t mind the taste of herself on his mouth, and pulls the pillow behind her closer until it’s propped under her, resting back on her elbows, letting him maneuver her with curiosity.

His thumbs slides up the inside of her thighs, pushing her legs further apart, as he moves lower, kissing her breasts, her stomach, until he’s between her legs again and settles them down over his shoulders.

Using her hips to pull her forward, he pushes his tongue deep inside of her, legs wrapping around him as she starts to move with him, her head tilting back between her shoulders.

He flattens it against her, letting it press hard against her clit again and she quivers around him. He plants kisses along the inside of her thigh, trying to draw it out as long as possible.

“Phil, please,” she says impatiently, opening her eyes to look at him.

He wants her to watch, to be right there with him when she comes, so he draws a teasing flick over her, and sees her eyes almost shut again.

He pulls back, then presses his tongue inside of her, while she looks at him achingly, then draws him against her with her thighs.

She gives a surprised little laugh when he resists, for a moment, then tightens her legs again, drawing teeth against her lower lip.

Then he gives it to her, fast, and desperate-hard, his tongue pressing tight circles around her, his mouth and chin against her as he works her over.

But her eyes stay on his, and he watches and feels her come, only finding her voice to groan loudly when she collapses back against the bed to catch her breath.

“Fun?” he teases.

She groans again and leans forward, grabs him down on top of her and kisses him tenderly, gratefully, like this was something important.

He hasn’t even told her he loves her yet.

“That was fun,” she says, smiling against his mouth.

 

###

 

She stirs against him in early in the day. 

Too early, and even though they’re underground, he’s pretty sure it’s still dark outside. 

It’s not like it’s a small bed, he can feel everything, but he tends to stay in one place and it’s been awhile since he really slept so peacefully, even if for only a few hours.

Which surprises him, considering how emotional things had turned.

He wonders if she’s having a nightmare, and puts his hand against her shoulder, moves it along her back soothingly.

She really is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.  Even in the dark.  His hand wants to map her and memorize her.

She sits up suddenly.

“Skye?” he asks, wondering if she’s really awake or not.

Grumbling a little, he can hear her run her hand over her face as she turns towards him, her fingers finding his hip.

“Bad dream,” she croaks, scooting her body over near his and sweeping the sheets away, until she’s replaced them, laying across him.

His fingers move through her hair as her head settles against his chest.

“Want to talk about it?”

“It was about you.”

The way she says it makes it seem like something that’s happened before tonight.

His thoughts drift back to her asking if the prosthetic made him uncomfortable, seeing him take it off and come back to bed with her.

Letting her hold him this time, against her side, feeling safe enough to let his walls down until he was dry and they both drifted off into sleep.

“I’m here, though,” he answers, craning his neck to kiss her forehead.

“I know,” she says.  “It feels less empty.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” he says, cheerfully.  “We get to sleep in.”

“I run this joint, what kind of boss do you think I am?“

“The kind that might like to be unprofessional,” he suggests, in more ways than one, pulling her knee up around his waist.

“You’ve had decades of being professional,” she teases. “I’m still catching up.”

“I have a lot to make up for,” he says, finding her chin in the dark, sliding his fingers along it until they reach her lips.

“Daisy,” he whispers, running his thumb over her mouth.

“Is this official business?” she asks, pressing a kiss against his finger.

“What?” he starts. “Oh, because of the name.  No,” he tells her, drawing his lips, feather-light over hers.

“I love all of your names,” he breathes out.

 

###

 

Of course Joey shouldn’t be riding on the new bike after a few of glasses of scotch, but they’re in the garage and no one is going to get hurt.

Too much.

It’s Christmas, after all.

He’s feeling lighter today, and Mack keeps looking at him and Daisy like he’s cautiously working everything out in his head.

When he’s not excessively smiling at Joey.

They’ll get around to telling everybody.  Eventually.

“Where’s Rodriguez?” he asks, when Daisy walks up to him, bumps her shoulder against his.

He’s not giving up that easily on the tamales. They weren’t that bad.

Mack gives them a look between sips of his beer a few feet away.

“Yo-Yo and Alisha are playing drunk hide and seek,” she answers matter-of-factly.  “Which is probably really entertaining if you think about it.”

She hands him one of the sugar cookies she’s holding, and takes a bite of the other.

“These are my favorites,” she says delightedly, crunching on the sugar sprinkles.

“I made an entire meal,” he says, taking a bite of the cookie. “And this is your favorite.”

“I’m predictable,” she says, meeting his eyes and wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He feels his face get a little hot and swallows, is determined to not look at Mack.

“They are pretty damn good,” he smirks.

“Everyone seems happy,” Daisy said. “And distracted.  Now might be a good time for me to thank the cook.”

“The cook would like that,” he says, taking another slow bite of the cookie.

He sees her stare at something ahead and turns to look at the SUV parked a few feet away from Mack.

“What happened to being professional?” he leans towards her, whispering low.

“I was going to ask if you think Mack suspects,” she says, working her jaw in amusement.

“Oh.  Probably,” he says, glances at Mack, who is talking to Joey while they look at the bike together.

“Meet me in my office in five?” she says, very official sounding.

“It’s Christmas.”

“Director, I have a desk. And I’m not afraid to use it.”

She flutters her eyes at him and walks away, as he puts his hands in his pockets and watches her, curious.

“Joey and I were thinking of getting a card game going,” Mack says walking up next to him.

“You in?”

“Maybe later?” Coulson says, as they all start heading back in.

As they all start to swipe their lanyards, he looks over at Mack.

“You know, it really does feel like Christmas.”

 

 


End file.
